


Tongue Fits Groove

by CourierNinetyTwo



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 15:51:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14719077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CourierNinetyTwo/pseuds/CourierNinetyTwo
Summary: Hana likes watching Brigitte work, but she'd really love to get a little more hands-on.





	Tongue Fits Groove

**Author's Note:**

> The title is about woodworking joints, obviously.

After fighting for so long, Hana learned about every kind of strength.

Her own was lithe and quick, reliant on reflex as much as flexibility to keep her alive in the middle of a battle. It was more than handling the MEKA's controls; she'd been trapped in the pilot's seat once before watching coolant leak onto her feet, knowing she'd die if she couldn't slip the harness fused to her thanks to heat and warped metal. After that, she stopped complaining about the pre-mission stretching routines.

Brigitte's was different. Someone could take one look at the muscle packed on her body and file it away as raw physicality, but Hana didn't agree. The power there was forged and polished clean, built on a foundation of endless effort. Without experience, without control, Brigitte wouldn't be able to handle the fragile mechanics behind barrier tech, which could take a wallop in the field but demanded a careful, patient hand for repairs.

It was a pleasure to watch Brigitte work too, although the older woman insisted the time she put into woodcraft was merely a hobby. Hana would have believed it, if not for the complicated designs hanging all over Brigitte's room. Her workshop was stuffed with legions more, a dozen projects not yet refined to completion. Some were weapon prototypes and clever baubles, but it turned out that Brigitte also had a knack for making furniture.

Hana filed that away as both domestic and cute, yet had never dared to say such out loud; they flirted sometimes between missions, but that was a little too heavy-handed.

It hadn't stopped her from coming in this afternoon to sit and watch Brigitte build a table, though.

"What are you even doing over there?" Hana asked, eyes locked on the bulge of Brigitte's bicep as she set a clamp in place. "There's like, sixteen pieces of wood."

"It's all recovered from Eichenwalde. I had to sand some of the parts down, reseal them and now..." Brigitte laughed while straightening up, as if she'd just realized the enormity of how much she had gotten through. "I have to fit it all together so it's even."

Hana whistled under her breath. "That's a lot of work for a table."

"I thought I'd give it to Reinhardt once it was done." Taking a step back, Brigitte eyed the table and frowned. "I've got to flip this over."

If it had been anyone else, Hana would have offered to help, but Brigitte was already braced and squatting down, holding the edge of the table in a deadlift that would have made her old basic instructor weep for joy. Creaks of protest carried from the wood, but the table landed in one piece, its heavy top laden with sawdust. The first few times Hana wandered down here, it made her sneeze, but she had grown fond of the scent of sap and split wood, tinged with the salt of sweat.

She was crushing--hard--but it was impossible not to when Brigitte was a ripped ray of sunshine with a cute accent. Never mind the fact that Brigitte could repair her mech with an armor pack and some elbow grease, but was more than happy to spend the night hammering out every little ding and resurfacing the paint so she went out in style.

It had made this whole exchange program with Overwatch almost like a vacation.

Clutching a handful of bolts and a gnarly-looking wrench, Brigitte dropped onto her back and slid under the table like a mechanic with a car. Hana couldn't see much more beyond the bottom of the other woman's boots, and the way fabric stretched tight along her calves whenever the muscle there flexed. Wood and metal creaked, echoed by the occasional grunt of effort until Brigitte tossed the wrench out from underneath. Leaning to see through the gap between benchseat and table, Hana made out gloved hands freeing up all the clamps.

"You sure you want to be under there while taking those off?"

"If it's not sturdy, I'll find out fast." Brigitte seemed entirely unbothered by the idea of the table falling on her, and a few minutes later, emerged with sweat shining on her brow.

It had soaked through the white of her shirt too, a thin waterfall from Brigitte's collarbones and tapering down her stomach. She huffed, pulling at the hem to wipe her face, and Hana got a brief but perfect view of the core of muscle that made Brigitte's body solid as iron. The split second glimpse of a boxer brief band above the line of her pants didn't hurt either.

"I think it's done." Hana snapped out of her haze at the declaration, grateful that Brigitte's eyes were on the table and oblivious to being eyed up like a prime cut.

She didn't get laid enough in the military. People were too either uptight about her being famous, or so far apart in rank that it just felt weird. Still, that was no excuse for ogling all six feet of the engineer like she'd never seen another woman before.

"Yeah?" With a smile, Hana made herself part of the conversation again, getting up off her perch in the corner to get a closer look at the table.

"Yeah, nice and solid." Brigitte knocked a fist against its surface, and despite the power behind it, the table didn't so much as squeak. "Let me get the wood polished up. There's a few scratches to buff out."

After rustling around through some drawers and a cabinet, Brigitte came back with a rag, some sandpaper, and a bottle with a clear liquid mixed inside. She crouched down to eye the surface of the table, then started sanding down a few spots that Hana hadn't even noticed.

"You're a perfectionist, huh?" That kind of detail-oriented focus was rare, but impressive.

"I don't know. I'm always trying to improve." Making a slow circle around the table, Brigitte smoothed a few more edges before soaking the rag and starting to wipe down the wood. With every pass, it started to shine, looking brand-new. "Aren't you, little _kanin_?"

Hana called on every bit of iron will in her body not to blush. She didn't mind Brigitte calling her 'rabbit', but there was a challenge in the other woman's tone she wasn't used to. "Of course I am. That's how you stay on top."

Brigitte agreed with a hum, attention falling back to the table. It was tempting to distract her again, but Hana bit her tongue until Brigitte stood up straight to survey her work. The table wouldn't look out of place in a museum, much less the castle it originally came from. "What do you think?"

"You're beautiful." The words slipped right out of Hana's mouth, and before she could insist she meant _it_ and not _her_ , Brigitte turned around with a raised brow.

"Oh?" Eagerness caught on that single syllable, so knowing that it pierced Hana through. She was caught, and couldn't do a damn thing about it. "Not what I expected, but I don't mind."

"I mean, I didn't..." There was no clean escape, not after they'd been playing games for months. Rather than lie, Hana fell quiet instead.

"What did you mean?" Brigitte pressed, curious but not unkind. "I already know I turn you on."

The words flipped a switch in Hana's stomach, flooding her body with heat that was equal parts embarrassment and relief. "That's so not fair."

"I'm playing as fair as you are." Now that mutual attraction was on the table -- well, next to it -- what mattered was the next step. "So do you want to go back to teasing each other, or should I lock the door?"

In hindsight, Hana had to kick herself for not realizing that Brigitte had been holding back. The engineer was bold in every sense of the word, and almost boisterous around Reinhardt and Dr. Ziegler. She must have been keeping things lowkey for Hana's sake, never pushing.

There were no ranks between them, as much as they were comrades-in-arms. Brigitte had been raised by heroes, and treated her like an equal instead of a starstruck fan.

It was the easiest choice Hana ever made, with one caveat.

"If I tell you to lock the door, do I get to finally see you with your shirt _all_ the way off?" She'd been too polite to sneak a peek in the locker room, despite a constant temptation.

Brigitte's grin could have powered the entire MEKA corps. "Why, of course."

"Then lock the damn door."

Hana knew that would get a laugh, but it was worth it. The heavy latch turned with a groan of metal, but Brigitte set the electronic lock with a press of her fingerprint too. Better safe than sorry.

When she turned back around, Hana dropped any pretense, tongue sweeping over her lower lip. There was so much of Brigitte to appreciate, and she had barely gotten started.

"You know you don't have a bed in here," Hana said, more as an observation as a complaint.

"I think you know we don't need one." Another stride and Brigitte was inches from her, head tilting so they could see eye-to-eye. "Unless that's your way of telling me you're a pillow princess _._ "

"I give as good as I get," Hana protested, and grabbed Brigitte by the shoulders, pulling her down into a kiss.

It started out slow, and Hana savored the careful exchange of lips and tongue before a crick started to climb up the back of her neck. She wasn't that short, but Brigitte was _that_ tall, and pressing up on her toes to keep their mouths together could only go so far.

"Do you want me to pick you up?" Brigitte murmured; of course she had noticed too.

The fact that Brigitte asked instead of just acting was enough polish for the dent to Hana's pride. Besides, she'd get to enjoy the benefits of those biceps in a whole new way.

She gave Brigitte's bottom lip a teasing nip. "Go for it."

Her feet were off the floor so fast Hana felt like she had just flipped into her mech. Reflex made her grab outward, finding a steady grip on Brigitte's shoulders before wrapping both legs around the width of her hips. When Brigitte's hold slipped to the curve of her ass, Hana smirked.

"Getting fresh with me, Lindholm?" Now that they were face-to-face, Brigitte's snort and eyeroll was unmistakable. "Listen, I'm not the only one who was crushing."

"If I was crushing you, you'd know it," Brigitte countered with a grin.

Before Hana could groan at the bad joke, Brigitte claimed her mouth in another, hungrier kiss. Every inch of the other woman was heat and power; it radiated off her skin in waves, and Hana wanted to soak up every bit of it, hoping that Brigitte would do the same in return.

"So how does your shirt come off if I'm hanging on you like this?" Hana asked.

A touch of red rose to Brigitte's cheeks, like the plan she put together hadn't accommodated for that. In a few strides, Hana felt the new table against the underside of her thighs, and she was set down on it like a centerpiece.

"Do you want me to stop with my shirt?" Brigitte's question was muffled by a veil of cotton before she cast the garment in question aside. Then she looked down at her hands and chuckled. "Well, the gloves are definitely going too."

Distantly, Hana was aware that Brigitte had taken them off, a pair of subtle thumps hitting the floor. The rest of her attention was laser-focused on Brigitte's exposed shoulders, a frame of taut and sculpted muscle dappled with freckles. Her sports bra was white too, and nearly opaque with sweat, the band of it stopping just above the line of Brigitte's abs. There was so much to appreciate, Hana had no idea where to start.

"Considering the way you're looking at me, I'm going to take that as a no," Brigitte said, a laugh underlining her words.

"Uh, yes! No, I mean no." Hana walked herself through a full deep breath before clarifying with, "please keep stripping."

"You get this much before we have to trade." Elastic snapped under Brigitte's fingers as she pulled the bra up over her head, shaking her hair to get a few stray strands out of both eyes. "Want any help?"

"Yeah," Hana answered breathlessly, eyes locked on the swell of Brigitte's breasts, marked by another smattering of freckles and two dark nipples, already half-hard. "It's an old team jersey. I don't care if it goes on the floor."

She _definitely_ hadn't gotten laid enough in the military. Swearing off porn after running into too many digital lookalikes of herself hadn't helped matters either.

A second after Hana lifted her arms, the jersey joined the growing pile of clothes. She hadn't bothered to wear a bra down to the workshop; there wasn't much there to keep contained anyway. Yet that didn't stop Brigitte from looking at her like she was the best invention since armored jetpacks.

"Gorgeous," Brigitte murmured under her breath, and closed the distance between their mouths again.

Hana answered the desire in the kiss with every ounce of her own, hand hooking behind Brigitte's neck to pull her closer, bring their bodies together. She spread her knees apart to let Brigitte slot between them, even if the taller woman's legs bumped against the wooden bench. The second they were skin to skin, Hana ached to be touched.

"Get your hands on me," she whispered, echoing her words by rasping the edge of her nails down Brigitte's broad back, "or in me. In me is good too."

"How am I supposed to take my time with you when you say things like that?" Brigitte groaned, calloused fingers cupping Hana's breasts. There was a slow build of pressure, teasing out her limit until she gasped.

"You can take your time with me later," Hana insisted, stealing another kiss as Brigitte caressed down her ribs, feather-light but scorching hot. "Like in the shower we're both desperately going to need after this."

Brigitte's full grip around her narrow hips made Hana shiver, but she lifted them to help get her track pants off. They fell to her calves before a pair of Brigitte's fingers brushed over the thin barrier of her underwear, finding the damp spot soaking through the center of pink fabric.

"I thought I might have to warm you up first," the eagerness in Brigitte's voice was unparalleled, and Hana was so ready for it to turn into action. "But you're ready for me, aren't you, _kanin_?"

Hana nodded, even as her cheeks flared red. "Calling me that while we're fucking is cheating."

"Oh? I thought you liked it." Brigitte smiled, lopsided and far too charming.

"I do." Despite her bluster, Hana wasn't going to lie; that might mean that Brigitte would stop. "It...it's sweet."

"So are you." Both of Brigitte's fingers teased a slow circle, building friction without quite giving Hana the contact she needed. "But you didn't answer my first question."

"Yes, yes, I'm ready," Hana gasped, hips rolling into the next careful stroke.

Brigitte caught the band of Hana's panties and pulled, chasing the stretch of fabric down each knee until they were out of the way. "Just what I wanted to hear."

She was unambiguously wet, and the moment Hana felt herself spread slick against Brigitte's hand, a moan escaped from deep in her throat. A finger traced along the outside of her folds, following a path over the swell of Hana's clit, then delved back down, coming back glistening. Brigitte's other arm slipped around her back, keeping their bodies close while looking Hana right in the eyes.

"Can I give you more?" Brigitte's whisper against her mouth was white-hot, and Hana had only a second to nod before her lips were sealed by another kiss.

One finger thrust inside, joined by another the moment she eased into the stretch. Hana tightened around them both as a pulse of pleasure shot straight up her spine, electric. She rocked her hips to start the rhythm, not wanting to wait, not after too many sessions in her Overwatch-branded bunk thinking about how good Brigitte's hands would feel.

The fantasy was a cheap knockoff compared to the real thing.

With every thrust of Brigitte's fingers, her body followed the motion, the strength behind it enough to make the table creak. Hana would have worried about it breaking, but the same hands on her now had fit the wood together piece by piece. She'd come undone a long time before it ever did.

"Harder," Hana gasped, palm following the flex of Brigitte's bicep down to her forearm, where she felt the subtle twitch every time the other woman sank her fingers to the knuckle.

Her other arm locked around Brigitte's back, fingertips bruising a pattern against freckled skin. Hana held on that much tighter as her plea was answered with quick, deep pumps of Brigitte's fingers, and the occasional tease of friction against her clit. She needed a lot more than that, and started to squirm to get it, a whine rising up in Hana's throat.

When Brigitte smiled, she knew it was entirely on purpose. "Is there something you want?"

"You're going to make me say it, huh?" Hana's voice hitched; it was hard to sound cocky when her whole body felt electric, each pulse of pleasure echoed by her body, tightening around Brigitte's insistent rhythm.

That sweet smile sent a whole different rush through Hana when she could see the desire in Brigitte's eyes paired with it. "Yeah. I really like your voice."

Heat blazed up the back of Hana's neck, another moan leaving her lips as she tried to put the right words together. "Fuck, Brigitte. Make me come."

When Brigitte's fingers thrust deep, curling to press at a certain spot inside her, Hana opened her mouth to cry out. Brigitte cut off the sound with another kiss, palm rubbing at Hana's clit until her hips started to jerk, calves pressing hard against the benchseat as if it would somehow keep her steady. Pleasure unraveled the hot knot of tension that had built and built until she couldn't think straight, but it was Brigitte's needy groan that pushed Hana over the edge of orgasm.

"Just like that, _kanin_." Brigitte said, her tone warm with praise. "Hear how wet you are around me? You feel _so_ good."

"F-fuck." Hana wasn't sure how she was supposed to do anything but curse and keep riding Brigitte's fingers when the other woman's voice was like honey, and she had the endurance to just keep going. "I want...I want to touch you too."

It was a miracle the words had even come out in order, considering every blissful aftershock made her clench tight all over again. She was so sensitive, but still groaned in dismay when Brigitte withdrew, arousal spread clear to the top of the engineer's knuckles, sticking in liquid threads between each finger. Hana watched as Brigitte sucked them both clean, humming appreciatively at the taste.

"You know," she waited for Brigitte's eyes to flicker up to hers, "the real way to test out this table is to get you on it."

Brigitte smiled, leaning close enough for their noses to touch. "Is that so?"

"Uh-huh." Hana pressed her knees in against Brigitte's thighs in a teasing squeeze. "If you think you like my mouth now, just wait."

She didn't expect Brigitte to pull away, but the look on the other woman's face was thoughtful, not a refusal. "Give me a second."

At least she got to appreciate the sculpted lines of Brigitte's back while she hunted around the shelves, and the curve of her ass when she bent down, only to stand back up with a black foam mat. When Brigitte tossed it on the floor in front of the table, Hana realized what it was for.

"Did you just get a mechanic's mat for my knees?" Hana laughed, affection bubbling warm through her chest. "Chivalrous."

"I've spent enough time on this floor to know it's not comfortable," Brigitte answered, kicking off her boots by Hana's abandoned clothes, "and my godfather's a Crusader. It comes with the territory."

From the few times they had met, Hana liked Reinhardt, but desperately hoped he would never find out what happened on his future table.

Thankfully, she didn't get more than a second to consider that before Brigitte's pants hit the floor, underwear tangled around her ankles. The solid frame of the other woman's hips lead down to a thatch of auburn hair, firm muscle flexing in each thigh as Brigitte put one knee against the bench.

"Are you going to swap with me, or should I pose a little for you?" Brigitte teased.

"It's a good thing you're so cute," Hana quipped back, giving one of Brigitte's legs a smack as she got up off the top of the table.

Her place was taken, and Brigitte parted her legs, looking down at Hana with a smile. "Oh? What would happen if I wasn't?"

The moment she was settled on the mat, Hana gripped Brigitte's knees, spreading them even wider before placing a kiss against the inside of one thigh. "I'd make you work for what you're about to get."

Brigitte took the threat in stride, fingers sinking into Hana's hair and caressing tender circles along the back of her head. "If you want me begging, you just have to ask."

Hana's cheeks flared pink, and rather than dignifying that with a verbal response, she licked a path to Brigitte's folds, nuzzling against dark curls. The moan that slipped from Brigitte's mouth was satisfying, but Hana wanted more and louder, tongue rolling over the swell of Brigitte's clit, just long enough to feel the legs on either side of her head tense. She looked up, meeting hazel eyes, and dared to smirk before dipping her tongue even lower.

"Hana." Brigitte's voice went husky when she was breathless, and Hana earned another moan by parting her open with a deliberately slow stroke of her tongue. "Please."

Her resolve to tease vanished, and Hana swallowed it down like the taste that filled her mouth as she started to lap at Brigitte in earnest, sucking sensitive folds between her lips before letting them go. Brigitte was wet enough to skip the warm-up, but it was the prelude to a desperate groan when Hana worked her tongue around the rim of Brigitte's entrance, lingering there until she heard a gasp.

Relenting with a shallow thrust inside, Hana curled her tongue just so before retreating, glad she had a tight grip on Brigitte's legs when the other woman's hips rocked forward, chasing the sensation. A series of slow strokes against Brigitte's clit brought out a shaky gasp, and Hana heard the harsh creak of wood above her head as calloused fingers clutched tight around it. She spared a second to smile at the sound before moving her tongue faster, trading off licks and lingering sucks around the thin hood of Brigitte's clit.

" _Hana_ ," she looked up at the sound of her name, meeting Brigitte's eyes and reading the flush of pink across the other woman's face, "Keep...yeah."

Reducing Brigitte to single syllables was something to be proud of, Hana thought, and used that as impetus to hum around what was trapped between her lips. The subtle vibration was enough to make Brigitte's fingers tighten in her hair, and Hana ran her hands up the inside of flexed thighs, tracing the tension there before gripping Brigitte's hips. She wanted to keep her still for the next part.

Brigitte came with a stilted gasp, and it was all Hana could do to keep her hold, lapping at the other woman's clit until her pleasure peaked. She treasured every moan and twitch, letting Brigitte come down from her high with a nuzzle and a kiss between her thighs. A light tug drew her up off the mat, knees angled against the bench as she came face-to-face with Brigitte again, watching her breathe hard.

"How'd that feel?" Hana asked, brushing a few strands of hair back out of her face. The workshop was warm, even if she wasn't dressed. "Because it seemed pretty good to me."

She felt Brigitte's laugh right against her lips. "You really are always trying to get the top score, aren't you?"

An attempt to counter that statement with a shrug fell flat when her face turned traitorously red. "I mean, it'd be nice."

Brigitte pulled her into a deep kiss, exploring Hana's mouth until she let out a muffled moan. The other woman whispered, "you were great. But I'll let you rack up some bonus points in the shower if you want."

The thought of soaking in some hot water with Brigitte was almost enough to make Hana press her thighs together. Not quite orgasmic, but it would get there.

"What about the table?" Hana asked. "You're going to have to clean that up, right?"

With an embarrassed clear of her throat, Brigitte admitted the point with a nod. "I might end up keeping it now. Have it out as a showpiece."

It took everything Hana had not to laugh. "Well, maybe you can make a bed for us next time."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Brigitte grinned.

After this, Hana was pretty sure she'd like anything that Brigitte did with her hands.

\--


End file.
